Until We Are Children Again Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!

Sir. Phillip Sidney, from Astrophel and Stella



the moon shakes out its dreams

could it be the astronauts will notice this time the gleams settled in

as they are

into their routine down pat now

will they drift by all cyber eyed in cold love of the logistics


on their way to staid experiments and mapping uber statistics

and leave the moon without a trace



of recognition, gold sobbing gold

futilely into the clouds. with "how slow steps..." she is

murmuring this aloud in a coded language

to interstellar winds...o how can they pretend

they do not know you, you who watched over them.

children saw you for what you were for centuries

can grown men see too, now? or do they leave with no regrets

no calling card inscribed in silver wonder. no stardust bouquets.

I wonder about you treading the night skies this interminable way

your name locked out of post modern poetry

suspended there like a coin out of reach out of the realm entirely now

we can never spend

until we are children again.


mary angela douglas 11 july 2020